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Poem

The plain bricks two, four, six, and eight
in red and in white, were these days
left at the bottom of the crate
well hidden from the young boy's gaze,
now mesmerized by bricks in grays.
with stunning shapes and cogs and wheels
a kit that cost three hundred bucks
"oh boy, Han Solo's ship," he squeals
"the giant one, the max deluxe!"
As piece by piece from box, he plucks.

He built the craft in just two days
placed upon his bedroom shelf
it now does nothing; sits and stays
a thing of beauty in itself.

The plain bricks two, four, six, and eight
abandoned for a week or two
still in the bottom of the crate
the ones the boy thought he outgrew
were emptied out and sorted through.

And as he spied, the bricks all spilled
he thought of all the things to build.

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